


Blue Jeans

by StealthKaiju



Series: Demonic Chorus [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Husbands Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 18:09:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20605094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StealthKaiju/pseuds/StealthKaiju
Summary: ‘But you fit me better than my favourite sweater’Blue Jeans by Lana Del ReyPrompt: Lingerie / Dress Up / Blindfold





	Blue Jeans

‘Zee, if I spend much more time here, the Dowlings are going to assume they have a Lady Chatterley scenario on their hands!’

‘Now Crowley, don’t be ridiculous – they’re Americans, they wouldn’t have read DH Lawrence!’ Aziraphale sniffed. ‘No one reads him, they just watch the television adaptations.’

Crowley rolled her eyes. ‘Nothing wrong with the telly, angel,’ she chided. ‘One of my better ideas.’ She had planned to stand looking smug, but she sneezed, a delicate ‘ach hoo’ that caused her eyes to screw up tightly. She blew her nose on a lace handkerchief (one that Aziraphale had lent a long time ago), and swore under her breath. ‘Bloody weather.’

‘Crowley, you are soaked,’ Aziraphale said, fussing around the kitchen of the cottage, putting the kettle on the hob to boil water. (He had refused an electric kettle, because that wasn’t part of the aesthetic he’d been going for with Brother Francis, and frankly if you weren’t going to make a character properly, why bother? No one was quite as ‘method’ as Aziraphale after all.) ‘As lovely as that gown is, it’s wet through, and it’s just going to give you a chill.’

‘It’s a dress, Zee,’ Crowley said. ‘No one calls them ‘gowns’ anymore.’ Crowley began to take off the high heels, then slowly unzipped the side of the dress, letting it fall in a pool around her feet. She stepped out of the black velvet, and turned to hang it on the clotheshorse by the fire (again, a log fire and clotheshorse, no tumble dryer in this cottage, thank you very much), when she saw Aziraphale’s wide-eyed expression. ‘You alright Zee?’ she asked.

Aziraphale yelped slightly, taken off his guard. ‘Um, yes, quite right,’ he replied, his about turn so sharp you could have cut corners with it. ‘I’ll…um… I’ll just get that tea…’

Crowley laughed, Nanny Ashtoreth’s voice a soft lilting melody. ‘Zee, look at me’ she said slowly, her voice dropping to a sweet, seductive husk.

Aziraphale turned round slowly, guiltily staring at the floor.

‘Zee, sweetheart, that’s looking at the floor, not at me.’ Crowley sighed, walking on stockinged feet over to Aziraphale, until she was a few inches from him. ‘Not like you to lose your head over a lady, even one in lacy underwear,’ she said softly.

Aziraphale gave a dismissive huff. ‘I wouldn’t, except it’s you.’ He gave a wry smile, then gently pressed his fingertips to Crowley’s chin, to draw her head down slightly. ‘I always lose my head over you.’

‘Such a charmer,’ Crowley said through a smirk, one hand on Aziraphale’s hip, the other reaching up to take off her glasses. Gold, amber eyes with dilated pupils looked at Aziraphale’s lips. ‘At least you don’t have those ridiculous teeth when we’re alone.’ She lent down, sharp teeth grazing the angel’s ear. ‘But you’re still wearing that awful, _awful_, ensemble. Take. It. Off.’

Aziraphale could never resist Crowley when she ordered him to do something.

‘That’sss better,’ hissed Crowley, helping Aziraphale out of his gardening smock, and the sensible underwear and vest. She gazed at Aziraphale’s naked body, forked tongue flicking out from between ruby lips. ‘Beautiful,’ she whispered, almost a benediction, then kissed him passionately, pressing her whole body against his.

Aziraphale moaned into her mouth, his hands wandering over the bare expanse of Crowley’s back and over the lace covered cheeks. Her fingers caught in his hair, pulling it tightly, scratching his scalp with sharp fingernails. Absolutely divine.

‘Crowley, let me… please…’ he breathed.

Crowley leaned back, smirking at Aziraphale’s whimper as she moved out of the range of his lips. ‘What are you asking me, Zee?’ she asked, that delicate mix of sympathy and condescension that only Crowley could do. ‘What do you want?’

‘I want to… want us to…’

‘If you say anything about making love, I’m going to stop,’ she chided.

Aziraphale looked afronted, huffing. ‘Actually,’ he said pointedly, ‘I was going to say I want you to lie down on that rather comfy rug in front of the fire –‘

‘For the love of - I’m in a Mills and Boon!’

‘ – and I want to make you come again and again using only my tongue.’ Aziraphale looked smug at Crowley’s surprise. ‘I have hours before you need to go back to the main house, and I intend to use every minute of it.’


End file.
